


Dark Reflection

by Karenkk



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark!Lestrade, Dark!Mycroft, Drug Use, Gang Rape, M/M, Mirror Universe, Multi, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, dark!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karenkk/pseuds/Karenkk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade no longer cared that his hands were just as dirty as his father’s. As long as he got what he wanted in life. Then one day, he was no longer in control. But he wasn’t the type to give up without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> I've start another fic... Oops... I'm sorry?
> 
> I recently came across one too many mirror universe fics in the Star Trek fandom and I'm just too intrigue not to give a try myself. So be warned that in this universe, no one is really particularly nice. Even Lestrade.

David Doyle was a dirty copper. 

At least this was what Greg Doyle had been told for most of his life, since his classmates was old enough to parrot what their parents whispered behind his family’s back. The bullying had escalated to broken bones and cracked ribs by high school. At least he gave as good as he got in those fights, feeling his own fists connection with flesh and bones, drowning in the rush of adrenaline. He earned his reputation the hard way. Despite his handsome face, people knew he was a force to be reckoned with. By his sophomore year, no one dared to repeat these words, at least not to his or his brother’s face. But he knew what they said when they thought he wasn’t around. That his dad took bribes from the local cartels to look the other way when required, then disappeared with his mistress and a brimmed offshore account in the Caimans when things went south, leaving the remaining Doyles shamed and penniless. Not that the police believed his wife, Melisa Doyle was completely in the dark about any of these. There were strings of investigations, more cover-ups and misconducts were discovered. The Doyle name was dragged further to the mud to the point that no one in the small town that they lived in wanted anything to do with them. Greg never believed them. Not that he didn’t have his moments of doubt if he was perfectly honest with himself. But whenever he closed his eyes all he could see were his father’s gentle smiles when he ruffled his hair, the affectionate kisses that he placed on his mother’s cheeks. To him, David was the man who showed him and his younger brother how to ride bikes, play football and took them to the zoo and picnics on weekends. He was the one that taught them the importance of integrity and honour, what was right and wrong. He was not the dirty copper who covered up drug sales, murders and eventually shot his partner on the leg to fund a string of affairs and his expensive hobbies in gambling and prostitutes. There was so much evidence though: confessions, eye witnesses, finger prints and money trails all pointing to the same conclusion. But all he could remember was his father’s gentles words, kind smiles and warm hugs. 

Sadly, no fond memories were able to soften the bleak situation that the family was facing. After losing yet another job and endured one too many icy stares and cold shoulders, Melisa sold the house and moved overseas. By then, she was Melisa Lestrade again, determined to move on from anything that was Doyle related, that included one of her sons. Greg Lestrade understood why. To her David was never ending nightmares filled with lies and shame. Shedding the Doyle name was not enough, not when her oldest son was practically a carbon copy of that man. His existence was enough to cause pain. He never blamed her for leaving him behind. After all, he was already 16 and old enough to look after himself. He spent the next two years from one distant relative to another in London, being grateful he wasn’t turned to social services. Melisa cared enough to send him money once in a while until he turned 18. Greg hoped these were the signs that she was doing well enough with his younger brother Peter.

Years and years later, after he had made detective at Homicide, he could barely remember why he joined the police force in the first place. Perhaps out of misplaced faith and desperate hope to prove his father’s innocence. Maybe he wanted to show the world that the Doyle name was more than a word of filth. But those were so long in the past that he barely ever thought about them anymore. He might have been a rock with hard edges once upon a time but they had long been filed smooth. Now, he was just one of those people with a badge, old enough to know he had to play by the rules.

TBC


End file.
